Once I had stopped my cries I lay in a bittersweet silence with Harry's firm hand softly caressing my back. I felt his fingertips trace my spine gently as a small sigh erupted from his dark pink lips, his other hand holding me into his warm body as it rested firmly on my bare hip.

"We have to talk about what happened." He informed in a whisper, and it sickened me to think of it.

I swallowed nervously, my face nuzzling back into his chest for comfort. "It happened. There's nothing more to say."

"But why did it happen, Harley?" He asked.

"Because that's just the way it is." I mentally begged him to stop talking.

"So, I just have to live with this? You want me to normalise my suicidal girlfriend who I may find dead in the next few days?"

I stayed silent and raised my head to stare at him in confusion. My eyebrows furrowed and I shook, but still slightly dazed by my new label. "I'm not suicidal. I didn't try to drown myself."

"You had a different answer earlier."

"I didn't try to drown myself." I repeated with much more sternness and anger.

"Harley, for Christ's sake," He angrily murmured, and I didn't flinch. "Just admit that you're unhappy."

I swiftly sat up, my whole chest bare was I wasn't even remotely in the mood to show any concern towards it. "I'm unhappy, okay? You're right, I need to love myself because I thought you would love me and that would be enough, but- oh, God that's not how it works and I'm so, so scared." I rambled.

"Finally!" He ironically cheered but still with anger. "You actually admit to something, and- God we- you can fix that."

"I think, no- I know that you're anxious because you're insecure. And I promise you, Harley, you'll feel so much better than you are now. You just have to figure out where your insecurity is derived from."

I knew exactly where it came from, and that was the most depressing of all. For some reason I began to choke on my own words and avoid eye contact at all costs. "It's because no one likes me. For my eighteenth birthday party, my parents had to invite their work friends to make it look like people actually cared about me. When you think about it, birthdays are supposed to be a celebration of you being, well, alive- and I had no one to even invite."

Once I looked at him out of embarrassment he was staring sympathetically into his lap. "What about that weird girl you used to talk to?"

"What, Devon?" I laughed in disbelief. "She was 'sick'. But then again, I would pretend to be sick too, if I was asked to go to a party that no one was going to."

He didn't know what to say as I sat in my pity circle. The more I began to think about my depressing life with no one but my parents, who only loved me because they had to- Tears brimmed my eyes. I hated self pity, but I couldn't help but cry whenever I looked back on my pathetic excuse of a lonely childhood.

"Why does no one like me, Harry?" I cried.

He crawled beside me and gently caressed either side of my face with his reassuring 'Shhh' and 'It's okay'. "Because no one has taken the time to get to know you. Fuck, I'm not forced to stay here with you. I'm not your family, I don't have to even acknowledge you. But the thing is, I do. I do because you're fucking awesome, and... and anyone who doesn't see that have their heads up their ass."

I was about to speak with a smile until Harry interrupted me. "The reason people don't like you at first is because you're different, and they're afraid of different. People hate what they don't understand, and therefore you feel like you're the problem. Well, you're not. You're amazing. I think you're amazing, Clyde thinks you're amazing and your parents think you're amazing."